


Firewhiskey and Flaming Spitballs

by mt_lyfe



Series: A Hogwarts Life For Me [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Attempt at Humor, Don't copy to another site, Dragon Stiles Stilinski, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Thieving Bowtruckle, Thieving Dragon, Thieving niffler, the bowtruckle is non-binary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28944870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_lyfe/pseuds/mt_lyfe
Summary: “So, to clarify, you found the Philosopher’s Stone while breaking and entering Harris’ office and rather than reporting it to the Headmaster right away, you’re going to fight for ownership of the Stone through a game of muggle poker?”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Hogwarts Life For Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122971
Comments: 30
Kudos: 111





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lalelilolu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalelilolu/gifts), [SAILORCAT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SAILORCAT/gifts), [StilesIsMySpirtAnimal_48](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StilesIsMySpirtAnimal_48/gifts), [Uniqueapplepie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uniqueapplepie/gifts).



> I've been having a lot of trouble writing and coming up with ideas. Forgive the scenes for being a bit choppy. As usual, there is no plot whatsoever. 
> 
> This is a continuation of _of Hogwarts and Dragons_

It was the first day of the new school year when Derek woke up feeling unusually cold. The fireplace embers had long since died out and he hadn’t cast a warming charm the night before. He hadn’t need to since Stiles had basically moved himself into his quarters along with several other critters from the Forest and he had gotten used to sharing his bed with a nest of animals. The eternal burning furnace of a dragon helped ward off the cold nights.

Said dragon was no where to be found, which meant neither was Pickett or Crassus. The trio had probably gotten up early to raid the breakfast table and then go treasure hunting.

After going through his morning routine, he arrived at the Great Hall and took a seat at the professors’ table next to Headmaster Deaton who was dressed in eccentric deep purple robes; as enigmatic as ever.

The table overlooked all the other houses. Doing a quick scan around, Derek could see most students were awake and helping themselves to heaping amounts of breakfast while reading the morning mail.

“Good morning, Professor Hale,” Professor Deaton said.

“Good morning, Headmaster,” Derek replied. He was a bit distracted to engage in morning pleasantries. He was still trying to locate his group of pests, hoping to stop whatever plan they’d cooked up while he was asleep.

“I hope you had a good night’s sleep before the first day of teaching.” There was a twinkle in Deaton’s eye suggesting that he knew exactly what was on Derek’s mind.

The start of the school year came with many new and exciting opportunities. The Hall is filled with excitement and chatter especially from the first years. The thrill of Hogwarts hadn’t worn off and class schedules were waiting to be handed out.

The first years haven’t even sat through their first magical lesson yet and wouldn’t know how to cast a proper locking charm on their trunks. It was certain Stiles and his thieving comrades were taking full advantage of that fact.

He spotted the group sitting near the outer edge of the Gryffindor table chatting up some tiny gullible first years. Their youthful faces were filled with awe at conversing with talking magical creatures. There was no doubt they would extract the password to the Fat Lady portrait out of their naive mouths before the end of breakfast.

He smothered a quiet groan because no way could he make a scene while the Headmaster was watching and shoveled scrambled eggs into his mouth while simultaneously glaring daggers at his charges wishing for once that Legilimency could work from across the hall.

“Professor Hale, I am aware that you are very busy, but I need you to come by my office before you turn in for the night. I have something for you. Enjoy your day.” Deaton stood up and left the Hall with a swish of colourful robes.

That sounded ominous. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, he had a class of first years to glare into submission.

It turned out to be a quiet day. They weren’t in their usual haunts. Derek hadn’t seen a single niffler hair nor flash of dragon scale and not even Pickett pretending to be a tree again.

That was cause for worry because the three often checked-in throughout the day in the form of interrupting his lessons with a well-meaning but headache inducing prank.

* * *

Walking out of the Headmaster’s office with a swathed bundle in his arms, Derek’s thoughts were swirling rapidly. The stone gargoyle leaped back to guard the door before he could go back in there to refuse Deaton’s request.

It wasn’t anything difficult or demanding. It might even just be Derek being extra paranoid. He was sure that Deaton knew where Stiles slept most of the nights despite having his own quarters. Their relationship wasn’t something they advertised among the other professors, but it was common knowledge, and yet, Deaton still asked Derek for this favour.

Looking down he met the eyes of his new charge. Large golden eyes stared back at him and he found that he couldn’t say no. Not after hearing Deaton’s explanation. And he was the Care of Magical Creatures Professor for a reason. He had a weakness for animals. Maybe it’ll work out. It wasn’t a long-term thing.

There was only one way to find out. With a sigh, he started the long walk back to his apartment in the Professor’s Wing and hoped that Stiles wasn’t going to get territorial.

Derek walked into his quarters to find the trio who had been missing all day had been squatting in his room the entire time. Glancing around there were some very obvious changes to his living room.

Over time his sparsely decorated rooms had been filled with random odds and ends that had been dragged in by his charges but those weren’t supposed to belong here at all.

There were now three plushy high-back armchairs surrounding his wooden table. It was an odd display because none of the chairs matched each other in colour or decor.

Stiles was occupying a regal-looking green leather armchair. Pickett was in a scarlet velvet armchair, pulled close so they could reach the table. Crassus sat in a sapphire-blue suede chair with intricate carvings on the wooden panels along the frame.

This was what the gang had been occupied doing all day—hauling stolen furniture out of the student common rooms and through the castle halls required effort. Looking around he didn’t see a fourth armchair and was slightly relived that there was one common room they didn’t break into.

The three were deep in another muggle card game.

A stack of bronze coins was piled haphazardly in front of each of them. It looked like they were gambling in Knuts. They only really busted out the cash when treasure hunting pickings have been slim. The stakes were still high though. A fight could break out at any moment.

Derek was wondering how to bring up his current issue when Stiles spoke up, “oh heya, Derek, welcome back. Wanna join the game? We got a seat for you too.” Stiles snapped his claws in a display of wandless magic and from his bedroom a plush golden armchair made of soft microfibers whisked out and settled into the empty spot at the table. It even came with a lumbar support.

Derek groaned inwardly. Not so lucky after all. Every house had been robbed today.

“So I need help,” Derek began.

“So do I,” Stiles interrupted. “Pickett owes me money and they’re claiming bankruptcy. I know that is a filthy lie. I never knew you taught them to be a lying liar.”

Seemed like Stiles hadn’t noticed the newcomer in Derek’s arms.

“If Pickett is broke, how they still gambling?”

“This bad boy here,” Stiles points to a bright red stone in the middle of the table. “We hit the jackpot today. Found it in Harris’ office.”

Derek blinked as he registered the object sitting innocuously on the table. “That’s the Philosopher’s Stone,” Derek said flatly. 

“Yea, it’s treasure.”

“And you’re playing some common muggle card game?”

Stiles’ wings puffed up with indignation and he slashed a clawed finger in Derek’s direction. “It’s not just a ‘ _game_ ’! You know nothing about the sanctity of a bet made through poker!” He was getting heated up and still hadn’t noticed what Derek had in his arms. “Houses, cars, and wives have been lost and honoured at a poker table! Do not judge! By the gods we’re going to decide this through poker because one of us is going to rob the other if we don’t. Especially Pickett. My eye is on you buster! I shouldn’t have taught you how to open magical locks.”

There’s a cheep from Pickett that sounded like a snide comment about Stiles’ equal lack of ethics.

Derek sighed. Since when did Pickett become this snarky? He hadn’t seen them squabble like this since they first met, and Stiles robbed Crassus and his brethren blind in front of his students.

“So, to clarify, you found the Philosopher’s Stone while breaking and entering Harris’ office and rather than reporting it to the Headmaster right away, you’re going to fight for ownership of the Stone through a game of muggle poker?”

“That’s right buddy, fair and square! No arguments or spilled salt. You want to sit in?” Stiles kicked the yellow chair, “you got a stake in this too.”

Derek could sense a headache coming. “Don’t lump me in with you thieves.”

“Well, judge-y McJudgerson, never mind then.” He turned back to face the table right in time to smack Crassus’ thieving paws away from his pile of Knuts. “Alright Pickett, your turn to deal.”

Pickett chirps and gestured toward Derek.

Stiles froze before spinning around again, finally noticing the bundle in Derek’s arms and the small head that was nosing its way out of the blankets.

“Where the _fuck_ did you get that thing?!”

Ah, yes Stiles, tact at its finest.

Derek sets his newest charge onto the table. “This is Norberta.” A baby Norwegian Ridgeback poked her head out of the swath of blankets. Her small frame was covered with glossy black scales and a pair of spiny bat-like wings unfurled to give an experimental flap. “Professor Deaton asked me to take care of her for a little while.”

Her kind were usually less aggressive than other dragons, but they learnt to breathe fire at a much younger age. Derek would have to keep a close eye on her so that she didn’t accidently set things on fire.

Stiles eyed her warily. He leaned in to inspect the little charge. The young dragon screeched at his blatant lack of respecting her personal space.

Stiles squawks right back in dragon-speak with a slight American accent because he’s a Hungarian Horntail whose been living in America all his life so his speech is slightly accented.

The baby dragon hisses right back in something that sounds slightly insulting, insinuating that he’s a thief.

“Language!” Stiles gasped. “Derek what have you been teaching her?! She’s young and impressionable!”

Derek snorted even though he had no idea what she just said.

“Derek she can’t stay here! She’s learning foul language already. This is a horrible environment for a baby!”

“Pretty sure she picked that up just now by watching you play poker. You’re the bad influence around here.” Well they might not be off to a good start, but there wasn’t any immediate bloodshed like he’d been dreading.

He went to prepare a milk bottle for her dinner leaving her on the tabletop under Stiles’ eye. “How long is she staying?”

“Deaton is working to locate her remaining family in Norway, and we’ll have to figure out a means to transport her across the country. Until then he asked me to look after her.” Derek hoped they would get along. Dragon can get defensive with strangers in their territory.

“That’s too long! It could take weeks! Where’s she going to sleep? She can’t sleep in our bed!”

Derek didn’t want to upset Stiles because this is technically his territory, but the baby dragon really needed a place to stay. He tried to placate him, “don’t worry, I’ll set up a nest for her by the fireplace. It’s only temporary.”

The baby dragon gave Stiles a smug look and blew a flaming wet raspberry in his direction. Embers shoot out and land on the table before fizzing out. Stiles, ever the picture of maturity blows one back. “Derek, look at her attitude!”

There’s a fake cough muffling a mocking cheep. Stiles spins around to whisper-hiss back at the owner of the cheep, but he’s never known the meaning of inside voice. “I’m not jealous Pickett! Shut your twiggy little pie hole!”

Derek inwardly rolls his eyes are the two. If this were the kind of dominance dragons showed when their territory was being threatened, he’d been fretting over nothing. “Be nice to her. Poachers killed her family. She’s in a new environment, she’s going to be a bit aggressive.” He knew that Stiles could be a softy under all his hoarding instincts, and he wouldn’t turn her away despite the initial protests.

“I’m _not_ jealous!” Stiles denied adamantly, “She can stay! But she doesn’t get a chair!”

* * *

Derek rushed out of his workshop after the last student packed up their bags and walked out the door.

Three days in, he’d run into an emergency and had no choice but to ask Stiles to babysit Norberta.

Meaning that he’d left a baby dragon alone in the care of an older immature but territorial half-dragon.

He was sure Stiles wasn’t going to be heartless enough to bully her, though he still couldn’t help but worry about imminent disaster and picked up his pace.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, past the silencing charms embedded in the frame he was hit with the booming noise of muggle music blasting through the room. What a sight beheld him as well.

Somewhere along the line, his room became a gathering for all the little creatures of the Forbidden Forest.

It was chaos.

The first thing that caught his eye was a group of bowtruckles swinging from the chandelier. Pickett’s relatives were notorious for partying. Then he saw all his dresser drawers pulled open and his niffler’s second cousin five-times removed was currently hanging off the edge with her snout buried deep into his sock drawer while the rest of the immediate family seemed to be having a pool party in the kitchen which involved mixing bowls.

Meanwhile Crassus himself and Pickett were in a heated game of Slapjack.

He signed up to be the Care of Magical Creatures Professor, _not_ agree to house a zoo in his rooms.

In the midst of the madness, Stiles was sitting on top of the cabinet with Norberta in an animated conversation and gesturing wildly about some topic in dragon-speak.

The door to his liquor cabinet was hanging on its hinges and the liquor in question was in Stiles’ grasp, in the process of being uncorked and clearly being offered to a baby dragon.

“ _Stiles!”_

Stiles stopped in the process of tipping some Firewhiskey into Norberta’s open maw. “What?” He shouted back over the fray of screeches, chitters, squawks and trills.

“Do not feed a baby dragon alcohol! She can’t control her flames yet!”

“But this is Norberta’s welcoming party! Don’t worry, we got the fire blanket ready and I can cast a freezing charm like nobody’s business. It’s just a sip!”

* * *

Norberta stays for two weeks and Pickett becomes an expert at using the fire blanket to smother flames whenever Stiles forgets that he is an adult and engages with her in a spitball blowing competition.

At least they’re getting along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus snippets coming up when I'm not going cross-eyed.


	2. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Date Night  
> 2\. Why is Niffler named the way he is?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments! As promised, here are the snippets that I couldn't figure out how to fit into the story.

**1\. Hogsmeade**

They go on their first official date in Hogsmeade. The wind blowing into their faces is chilly, but they’re bundled up in warm winter cloaks and thick scarves in their respective house colours. Wandering through the busy streets admiring the brightly decorated shops, Stiles liked to drag him from store to store to sample the free goods. Derek is just enjoying the warmth of Stiles’ hand in his. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Derek sees a black tuff of fur that’s ravaging the sugar quills at Honeydukes.

His eyebrows twitch with annoyance. His niffler has never known the concept of shame and embraced third wheeling like a boss. Then he spots Pickett swinging from the rafters after the leaping frogs and that’s the last straw. “I TOLD YOU TWO TO STAY BACK!” He roared.

Between the two of Stiles’ cockblocking friends, it’s impossible to go on a date unchaperoned.

* * *

**2\. Because Stiles has a wealth of useless knowledge.**

“Remind me why you named my niffler Crassus again?”

Stiles threw down a pair of queens before answering, “when you go into a Wikipedia spiral about The Great Emu War of 1932 because you’re bored during the summer months stuck at home in small town Beacon Hills, California without being allowed the use of magic and then come out the other end of the black hole reading about the Buttered Cat Paradox, you’d name a niffler after a Roman citizen who liked to extort money from citizens to put out fires too.”

Okay.

“What about...” Derek struggled to think of something muggle related.

A hazy image of the only time he visited muggle America came up. It was a hot and humid summer and Derek remembered watching a group of muggle children playing outdoors in what looked like a warped version of metal brooms that could only travel short distances on ground. “Scooter?”

Stiles almost yeets himself off the table in horror. “You cannot name a sentient being after something with two wheels you heathen! Forget it, you probably don’t even know what a wheel is.”

Maybe Stiles does have the better naming sense despite how strange the names are.

The niffler in question is outright ignoring the conversation in favour of helping himself to the unguarded pile of bronze Knuts doubling as poker chips into his stomach pouch.

Clearly, he has his priorities in order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other words, don't trust me to name anything. (I got the name from a friend.)
> 
> If you want to chat! [my tumblr](https://mtlyfe.tumblr.com)


End file.
